Jan G. Otterstrom F.

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The exit, called death, approaches
how near, I do not know, prayer
my only access, to sense beyond
that door, sitting here, I stir
among the ash, expired embers
cinders, left from earlier fires
in search for ones that glow
to blow my final breath away
igniting tomorrow’s blaze
passing on the flame, often in
darkest night, spark to kindle
light, kinsman sight, and thus
illuminate, life’s mysterious way.

c) Jan G. Otterstrom F. 12/24/2011 Costa Rica